


Study of Loneliness in August

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ficlet, Pre-Sburb (Homestuck), Pre-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: a very very *very* short, slightly venty thing written at 4 am b/c i had some really moody music.
Kudos: 3





	Study of Loneliness in August

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely apologise for any grammatical mistakes and the quality of writing. I'm too lazy to fix my writing, and grammarly doesn't catch ll mistakes lmao. anyway pls feel free to drop some constructive criticism in the comments, if you like  
> have a good day yall

You stand listlessly in front of the empty Kroger, staring into the cold, empty aisles. The lack of money in your pocket burns a hole straight through your very core. Cars woosh lazily past as tinny radio music barely touches your eardrums. You find yourself straining for the melody. It's some kind of sappy ballad, unidentifiable and uninspiring. You linger in between the sliding doors, letting the stale A/C wash over your chest as sticky heat clings to your back. Then, you step into the store. The sheer lack of people unnerves you. The shitty store music becomes your lifeline, your steps carefully slowed to match it. You regretfully pull a jar of peanut butter off the shelf, those shitty bulk crackers, and of course your standard apple juice. It is your one indulgence. No Oreos for Dave; apple juice is better anyway. You stop in the restroom to procrastinate about how obvious your shoplifting is this time. Taking a deep breath, you walk double-time to the exit. You're certain the cashier notices, but they make no move to stop you. You simultaneously curse them and thank them mentally. Taking a deep breath, you start through the soupy air with your groceries for home. The walk along the bayou in the thick air in August is difficult, and it begins to drizzle about halfway home. You nearly stumble into a horde of people disembarking a bus and promptly sit down on a broken-down bench, fighting sudden, panicky tears. There are people for once. The one goddamn time. You end up sitting there for over an hour and eventually passing out. You wake up about fifteen minutes later. Your crackers are most likely moist with condensation by now. God fucking damnit. You stumble down the buckled asphalt again. The bayou is beginning to become noticeably full now, and it has become so humid and rainy that you are forced to take your shades off. Feverishly warm and shivering, your focus is solely on the path as you make it the last mile home. You slam your shades irritably onto your face and round the corner. The rickety stairs seem to challenge you. You stack your juice and peanut butter onto the cracker package and balance your load precariously on your hip; you did not grab a bag on your mad dash out of the store. The tinny ballad comes back to you as you ascend the slippery metal. You count the steps to the tune of Hey There Delilah and before the end of the last verse, you are at the fire-escape window. You slide open the window cautiously. Sure enough, one of your bros motherfucking--ly cool puppets falls down. You sigh and shove your head and shoulders in. Your arms, carrying your cargo follow, and your legs step into the too-cold living room. At least it isn’t rainy in here, too. You stumble into your bedroom and slam the door behind you Despite yourself, you jump at your own noise. God, you're stupid. You strip off your soaked shirt and dump your groceries under your bed. Grabbing your other set of clothes, you dash to the bathroom to change and wash your clothes. You carefully wipe off your shades with a towel and dart back into your room. This time you don’t jump when you close the door firmly behind. You boot up your laptop but a void pulses inside of you. You know what you will find when you open Pesterchum. Rose is online. John is idle. Jade is asleep. You fuck around in a text editor until you pass out again.


End file.
